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This wasn’t the first time that Tim had a gun held to his head.
It sounded worse than it was. Tim was Robin. He was used to being a pawn in the games the Rouges played with Batman. Most of the time, that included being put in dangerous situations. Being held at gunpoint was nothing when he’d been held hostage so many times.
It was, however, the first time that Tim was absolutely okay with the gun going off. He might’ve been a bit dazed, but he understood the situation that was unfolding.
Jason had a gun to the Joker’s head. Deathstroke had a gun to Tim’s. Dick was bleeding out on the floor. Tim knew that this wouldn’t be resolved until one of the guns went off.
The chance that Jason would change the direction of his barrel was minuscule. Tim didn’t have enough time to force Jason to see how useful he could be; even less to con the guy into considering him his brother. Most of the time they had spent together was Jason conning Tim, actually. As Tim stared at the Joker, idly cataloging that the madman was saying how Tim’s death wouldn’t matter, he was truly aware of his own approaching death.
And that was okay. Tim would rather he died than Jason again, anyway. Dick and Bruce would have been much more destroyed about Jason dying a second time than Tim dying. They had just gotten him back, and barely had enough time to convince him to come home. Having that chance stolen from them would break them beyond repair.
Tim heard how choked up Dick got when talking about Jason. Tim may have been the one to get a hug back at Amusement Mile, but Dick was surely picturing Jason in Tim’s place. Dick was always picturing Tim as Jason. How many times Dick had called Tim by the wrong name was testament to that.
He’d already put as many band-aids on their grief as he could. Tim couldn’t do more, not if Jason died again. Tim would just have to be the one to die, this time. It would be all right.
Dick didn’t even know about Tim’s childhood. He had gone quiet when Tim said his parents worked too much—that was the whole reason Tim was Robin in the first place. Tim didn’t even think Dick knew that, actually.
The guy may have said Tim was his brother, but Dick barely knew him. He knew Jason so much better, even this resurrected version that had the anger of the Lazarus Pit running through him.
And if Jason’s gun went off—like it surely was going to—then Deathstroke's was going to. That was the thing that happened with stalemates when a gun was involved. It almost never ended with just one gunshot. If Jason shot the Joker, then Deathstroke would kill Tim. If Jason tried to shoot Deathstroke, then Deathstroke would just use Tim as a shield. Tim's armor was already compromised. There wasn't a way out of this. Tim was going to die because he was stupid enough to let his head get smashed in again.
He should have seen this coming. Dick was right: for a self proclaimed genius, he really was clueless.
None of them were a match for Deathstroke, and obviously working together hadn’t actually worked. This would end with Tim getting a bullet in his brain or his chest, and he was okay with that.
He was okay with Jason not even trying to save him, too. It wasn’t like it would do much good. Tim’s and then Jason wouldn’t get what he wanted.
Jason needed to kill the Joker. Tim didn’t think that his whole ‘murder is okay as long as its a bad person’ would stop unless he killed the Joker. That madman was the majority of the reason that Jason was murdering anyway. So of course, Jason would rather shoot the Joker than try and fail to save Tim. At least that way, Jason could get what he wanted and not feel bad about not being able to save Tim.
Tim didn’t even blame him. Once you’ve worked toward a goal for long enough, it wasn’t easy to just… stop right before you completed it. He got it. Jason needed to kill the Joker, and Tim was the one who stuck his nose where it didn’t belong.
This was just an unfortunate consequence. Tim was okay with that. Better him than Jason or Dick.
“Who’s it going to be, lamb chop?” The Joker taunted. Tim had forgotten that he was still talking. “Him, or me?”
“It’s okay,” Tim muttered while nodding slowly. His voice was as desolate as he felt, but that was okay. It was an indicator of how wholly Tim had accepted his fate. His eyes felt tired, drooping in both exhaustion and acceptance. The movement of his head caused pain to spur to life there again, but he didn't care. Jason was taking too long to shoot the Joker. Tim wanted this to end sooner rather than later. He was so tired. “It’s okay.”
His head lulled a bit to the side, but it was quickly pushed back away from Deathstroke with the barrel of the gun.
Something complicated passed over Jason’s face. Tim was too tired, in too much pain, to really understand it. He hadn’t gotten much sleep since that night at Black Mask’s warehouse. If Jason would hurry up and shoot the Joker, then Tim could finally get some rest.
Tim closed his eyes. It made the world spin a little, but he didn’t want to see the Joker’s brain matter splatter everywhere. Despite all that madman had done to Tim, Tim still didn’t want to see that level of violence.
The Joker’s chanting faded into the background.
Besides, maybe that would make it clearer to Jason that Tim was alright with what was going to happen. Tim had made his peace—well, enough that he wasn’t mad he was about to die. He just wanted it to be over.
The gunshot sounded in the air. Tim relaxed, probably the opposite of what he should have done. Most people went ridged before they were about to die. But tensing would probably make it hurt more, wouldn’t it?
Only, instead of a second gunshot going off, Tim was released completely. He stumbled forward, then to the side, unbalanced and confused. Tim wasn’t ready to support his own weight again. He was readying to never have to again.
Tim watched as Deathstroke stumbled and fell. His brain was suddenly having to go at a much faster speed than it had been going. Tim’s eyes flicked to Jason, who’s gun was still pointed forward.
Forward. Jason’s gun was pointed forward. He had just shot Deathstroke, and successfully. Tim’s brows furrowed as he went back to looking at Deathstroke on the floor, a small puddle of blood forming underneath him.
Somehow, Jason had both moved fast enough and shot cleanly enough to get through Deathstroke’s armor before the mercenary shot Tim. Jason wasn’t completely lying when he said he would have had a fairer chance at winning against Deathstroke if he had weapons.
“Well, that was disappointing,” the Joker pouted, bringing Tim’s attention back toward him.
Tim was more preoccupied with Jason’s expression. He looked shell-shocked, like he couldn’t believe the choice that he had just made—or maybe that he actually made the shot. Tim was right there with him. He had no idea why Jason didn’t take the opportunity that he had. Tim had thought that killing the Joker was all that Jason cared about.
“But maybe next time we’ll finish this,” the Joker continued. Neither Tim nor Jason was paying much attention to him.
Here Jason was, starting to look down, eyes searching and lost. He looked more lost than Tim was, and Tim was the one who was somehow still alive after that.
“See you around, sunshine!” The Joker finished, moving his arm and utilizing Jason’s inattentiveness. He sprayed vapor into Jason’s face, immediately making Jason flinch back and go down. The Joker took that opportunity to run, but Tim didn’t care about that. He was more worried about Jason. Tim understood what it felt like to have that gas cloud your lungs. He kept a vial of antidote on him at all times because of it.
Tim heart was pumping blood faster to his brain, surging adrenaline through him to get him to act. He sprung forward as Jason wafted the vapor away from him, coughing all the while. He was at Jason’s side in a matter of seconds, pulling out the antidote in his utility belt quicker than he could think.
Jason was still coughing. Tim plunged the needle into Jason’s neck, ignoring his own shaking hands.
“It’s going to help,” Tim tried to reassure as Jason kept coughing. He didn’t say it would be okay. He didn’t think that word would make Jason comfortable right now. He kept a reassuring arm on Jason’s shoulder as the antidote started to do its work.
Tim knew it had done its job when Jason punched the floor. He wisely got himself out of Jason’s way, but still cast a critical eye on him. He needed to know that Jason wasn’t about to keel over again.
“You okay?” He asked before he realized he was supposed to be avoiding that word. Jason’s expression was back to that lost, defeated look.
Tim hated that he was the reason for that. If he hadn’t been stupid and got himself a gun placed on his head, then Jason could have gotten what he wanted. Tim’s whole thing was doing the best he could to help other people succeed. Even if Jason wanted to kill someone, if it made him happy or stable enough to even consider talking to Dick or Bruce on neutral terms, Tim would take it.
Jason didn’t respond. He sat up, though, so Tim counted that as a win. He offered his arm out to Jason who, surprisingly, took it.
Tim didn’t know if he should be surprised or not. The guy gave up perfect opportunity to kill his murderer in order to save Tim’s life. Tim clasped Jason’s forearm and helped him up to standing.
“Thanks,” Tim offered. He didn’t know what else to do. Jason saved his life; it was only fair to thank him for it.
Jason gave him a searching look. Tim wanted to press himself back, to make himself smaller, to get away from it. Those eyes felt like they were pulling back every layer that Tim had ever put on as a front to protect himself.
“Glad you’re okay,” Jason replied, and wasn’t that something. Tim couldn’t decide if that meant that Jason was glad of his choice, or glad that Tim made it out of being at gunpoint unscathed.
Tim thought he hadn’t made enough of an impression on Jason yet, so he had a hunch it was the former. The guy may have said he didn’t want to hurt Tim back at the GBC building, but that was before he beat him within an inch of his life.
But maybe forcing his help onto Jason had more of an affect than Tim thought?
Jason stepped a little closer, giving Tim an entire once over. It was almost like Jason was looking for wounds. Tim was drowning in confusion. Before he could ask anything, though, Dick was calling them.
And, right. Dick was bleeding out. Tim’s curiosity on why Jason chose Tim’s life had to be benched. He’d figure it out eventually.
Once Jason decided to make the area known as Crime Alley his territory, Nightwing and Robin ceded patrol there to him.
He was grateful for it—not only how it was a show of trust, but also that it mean that they wouldn’t get in his way. Jason might have toned down the killing a little, but he was still putting bullets into people. Bodies still laid in his wake. It was better for their unsteady relationship for them to leave each other mostly alone.
Jason said mostly because, well, they didn’t fully cut off communication. Barbara wouldn’t stand for that. Every time Jason got anything that resembled a communication device—be it a radio or a new burner phone—Barbara was there. She must have been on someone good terms with the Bats again, because wherever she went, Dick closely followed.
That didn’t mean that Jason was having interactions with Tim though. Whenever Jason saw the bird around Park Row, he had Nightwing with him. Those interactions were awkward at best and tense at worst. Dick had seemingly forgiven Jason for putting a sword through him, but he wasn’t about to let Tim be alone with Jason yet.
It made sense. It was also why it took a while before Jason was able to find the kid alone and near his territory.
The moment he saw Robin standing alone on a rooftop just outside Crime Alley, Jason’s lips and tongue formed the whistle for ‘wait’ before he could even think about it. He had seen the bird jolt, but obediently sit down onto the roof to wait. Jason didn’t let himself think about that interaction for long. Instead, he started making his way quickly over to the building.
He didn’t think about how natural the whistle felt on his lips, nor the bubbling emotion in his chest when Robin obeyed it without question. Jason had used them liberally during the three-way fight between Deathstroke, so he shouldn’t be surprised that it was his first reaction upon seeing Tim alone.
Jason didn’t want to have this conversation with the big bird nearby. It wasn’t for his ears. Dick hadn’t heard the way Tim sounded when Deathstroke held a gun to his head. Dick hadn’t been near enough to see the kid’s expression either. There was an acceptance in Tim’s eyes that Jason never wanted to see again.
His stomach still rolled thinking about it. Jason didn’t think he felt any kind of way about the new Robin—besides wanting him out of his way. That was until Tim was muttering that his own fucking death would be okay. Another Robin dying might not be Bruce’s line, but apparently it was Jason’s.
They needed to talk about it. A pitiful ‘thanks’ followed by Jason’s comment about being glad the kid was alive was not enough.
Jason finished clambering up onto the roof. Without a grapple, it had taken much longer than he thought. He should have nicked one when he was in the cave, but he didn’t think about it at the time. The entire climb, he was chanting over and over again that the kid better still be there.
He was. Tim was sitting on the edge of the roof, feet dangling down the side of it. The sight made something weird happen in Jason’s chest. He’d thrown away his perfect chance to put down the death worshiping garbage for good, and this was how Tim repaid it?
Jason stalked forward. Tim barely flinched, even as Jason grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back to the roof. Tim landed on his back with a thud. He stared up at Jason, glare visible even through the domino.
“What you do that for?” Tim asked incredulously as if he hadn’t just been teetering over the edge. He wasn’t allowed to flirt with death like that on Jason’s watch.
“Sit somewhere better next time, and I won’t do it again,” Jason grumbled. He sat down next to where Tim had fallen.
Tim, taking this in stride, didn’t move away from Jason. He sat up, then continued his gazing toward the city. Jason followed where he was looking only to find that it was in the general direction of the Monarch Theater.
Jason took a steadying breath. Better start with something simple before asking the hard hitting question. “What are you doing all the way out here?”
Tim made a so-so motion with his hand. “Tracking this guy. Was about to bust him the night you made your grand debut, but he moved bases after that. Trail was going to lead me to the center of your territory so.”
Jason tilted his head at the kid. He would’ve raised an eyebrow, but the expression would have been lost by the domino mask anyway.
“So you waited here instead?” Jason pressed when Tim didn’t explain further.
Tim took a hand off of the rooftop to gesture toward the city. “This is your area. I didn’t want to intrude.”
This time, Jason did lift his eyebrows. Not to make a point, but out of clear confusion. This didn’t align with the Tim that had burst into his apartment without a care in the world. Nor the Tim that had showed up to his confrontation with Deathstroke uninvited.
Ah. The mercenary might have something to do with it. Jason didn’t know what exactly, but he was betting that Jason saving him from Deathstroke was doing something to his thought process. He had no idea how to get that information out of Tim delicately, though, so Jason decided to just get out with it. There was enough conversation before this anyway.
“I didn’t peg you for a Robin that would let a silly thing like that stop you from investigating something,” Jason said bluntly. “Is this some hold over from me shooting Deathstroke for you?”
Tim turned into a statue. That wasn’t exactly what Jason expected. He might not know Tim very well yet, but what little he did pointed toward Tim being the kind to fight rather than freeze. Sarcasm and jokes seemed to be the kid’s go-to, which was kinda fitting for a Robin.
“You don’t like I shot someone that was holding you?” Jason asked, trying to get under Tim’s skin. Maybe that would push him to explain. Push him to do anything other than sit there as still as death. “I saved your ass doing that. And its not like the guy’s dead. His healing is off the charts.”
“Why did you save me?” Tim asked, voice so small that Jason had to lean forward a bit. The tone didn’t make sense, not coming from this kid.
Jason’s furrowed brows creased even more. It was uncomfortable underneath his domino. Instead of just confusion, though, they were scrunched in worry.
“What do you mean why?” Jason asked back. He spluttered, leaning back again. He didn’t have the strength to explain all his reasoning quite yet. “Why? Dick would have been pissed with me if I let you die.”
What Jason didn’t say is that he had forgotten that Dick was lying on the floor a few feet away. He didn’t say that the moment Deathstroke’s gun pressed against Tim’s forehead, the world shrunk down to the four of them. He didn’t explain that it was a split-second decision his body made without his brain’s input.
Jason shot Deathstroke without really thinking about it. His body, his instincts, made the decision for him. He was confused why he even did it in the moment, but he realized now that he wouldn’t be able to deal with seeing Tim get shot in the head right in front of him. Not only could he not let another Robin die on his watch, but this was Tim. Snarky little fucker who tracked him down not once but three times, all because he wanted to help.
The kid didn’t even know Jason when he was alive. He still couldn’t understand why Tim made such an effort.
Tim looked down, shaking his head. “He wouldn’t have and you know it. You made too risky of a move.”
Jason jolted. The air on the rooftop was suddenly much too stifling. It was a labor to breathe; Jason’s stupid recreated muzzle was getting in the way.
He might have literally told the kid that he didn’t think that Tim’s death would change anything, but surely it wasn’t true. Jason had seen how protective of Tim that Dick was; the guy literally yelled for Jason’s help when Tim was in trouble. The desperation in Dick’s voice couldn’t have been a lie.
“Actually, I don’t know that,” Jason ended up with. He tapped his fingers on his knee. “How Dick sounded when he yelled for me was the exact opposite of that.”
Tim shifted, finally. However, it was only to bring his legs closer to his torso. Becoming smaller, less of a target. Jason hated it.
“He would’ve been more upset if it were you, but.” Tim breathed a heavy sigh. “Like I said, it would’ve been okay.”
“Yeah, no,” Jason ground out. “I fucking hate that word now.”
“You said it yourself,” Tim cut in before Jason could say anything more. Jason ground his teeth. “Me dying wouldn’t change anything. I doubt Dick or Bruce would have as bad of a reaction at your death then they would if I bit it. Plus, you had been pretty sold on killing Joker. Dick would have forgiven you for it eventually, just like he forgave you for stabbing him. All that together was why I said it was okay.”
Jason stared at Tim opened mouthed. Not that the kid could see it, but that was beside the point. Having the kid accept his death while at gunpoint was one thing, but this was a completely different ballgame. It wasn’t even in the same category as sitting on the edge of a roof.
This wasn’t passive. This wasn’t a heat of the moment decision made while concussed. This was something that Tim fully believed.
Jason was so not prepared for this. He was prepared for Tim to make a quip about how concussed people shouldn’t be taken seriously. He was even prepared for Tim to say something about how Jason had treated him leading up to that moment. At least then, Jason could apologize or something.
This required a full-on therapy session. Jason was absolutely the wrong person to talk to for this.
Then again, he was probably the only person that Tim could talk to about this. Bruce was gone—Alfred with him—and it wasn’t like those two were paragons of healthy, emotional communication. Dick was better, but if Tim thought that Dick wouldn’t care if Tim died then… that ship had already sailed.
“I didn’t mean it,” Jason started with. He looked away from Tim; he couldn’t to be looking at the kid right now. Chances were that would just make him stumble, and Jason had a feeling that would make things worse. “What I said in my apartment. I don’t think that.”
“Yeah, sure,” Tim laughed without humor. Jason heard him scrape his foot against the rooftop. “I get it, though. Dick might say he’s my brother, but we’re nowhere near as close as you two were.”
At that, Jason let out an involuntary laugh. Tim made more sound next to him. Jason still couldn’t bring himself to actually look at the kid, especially for this. “We weren’t as close as you’re probably thinking. Sure, we were brothers. We would shoot the shit every time Dickface was in Gotham. But it wasn't like we were best friends or something.”
“Just because you weren’t best friends doesn’t mean he didn’t love you,” Tim said as if Dick didn’t love him. “You weren’t there to see how much he fell apart after you died. He never really recovered, if how he was acting when you returned was any indication.”
And wasn’t that just sad? Tim had somehow decided that all the worry that Dick had shown for Tim during Jason’s first few bloody days back wasn’t actually directed at Tim. Like he was some sort of placeholder for the emotions that Dick had been feeling.
Jason might not have been there to see most of it unfold, but he saw the aftereffects. Dick would never had gone out with an injury like the one Jason gave him if it weren’t to protect Tim. And Tim had been very persistent with the entire meddling thing, which is why Jason tried to send them on a wild goose chase. It didn’t work, of course, because Dick was concerned enough about what was happening that he got Barbara roped into it too.
He couldn’t help but be glad that his brothers showed up. Even if it did end up with Jason saving Tim’s life when the brat didn’t want him to.
“Dick said that you were his brother,” Jason settled on after a long stretch of silence. It didn’t feel like enough.
“Yes?” Tim responded as if he wasn’t entirely sure. That didn’t bode well.
“Dick doesn’t just say things like that. Took a while before he actually called me by brother. He cares about you, point blank.” Jason huffed, then turned back to look at Tim. “I don’t want to talk about Dickface anymore.”
Tim blinked several times. He cocked his head, confused. He looked like a baby bird doing it, so much so that Jason had to stifle a laugh. “You brought him up?”
Jason cursed under his breath. He used Dick as an excuse as to why he saved Tim. Fuck, he had to be actually emotionally open and shit didn’t he? This whole conversation they had been talking about Dick and how he would feel. Jason never intended that to be how this conversation was going to go, and he was the one who led them straight into it.
“Okay, yes, I did, but that’s beside the point.” Jason leaned forward. “You shouldn’t have been so ready to accept your death, is what I’m trying to get at.”
“Robin is in danger all the time. It comes with the territory,” Tim tried. Jason decided he wasn’t close enough, even with leaning forward, and so shuffled a little closer to the baby bird. Tim was still too curled in on himself for Jason’s liking.
“You had Dick there. You had me there.” Jason breathed, preparing. “There was no reason for you to think that you weren’t gonna be saved.”
That was the crux of Jason’s issue with this, wasn’t it? He had been held by the Joker for months, and yet he still believed that Bruce would come for him until the very end. Sure, his hope had diminished the longer he was tortured, but it was still there. It wasn’t until Joker had broken Jason completely that Jason didn’t think that Bruce would come. Eventually, Jason realized that Bruce either couldn’t find him, or wouldn’t want to save a Robin so thoroughly degraded. Joker had been recording, after all.
Tim wasn’t like that, though. He had fought until Deathstroke beat him woozy, and even then. Even then both of his brothers were still there. Tim should have had some belief that they would save him.
But Jason didn’t make Tim feel like he could trust him. At every interaction they had, Jason manipulated Tim to suit his own goals. Jason had been so deep in his anger and his want for revenge that he had forgotten that he was supposed to be a protector.
“You wanted to kill the Joker,” Tim eventually muttered. “I didn’t think I was high enough on your priorities that you would throw that away.”
“I didn’t either,” Jason said, a little surprised at the truth in his own words. “But like you said in my apartment, I didn’t kill you or Dick that night at the GBC building. I don’t want either of you dead.”
“I get that now,” Tim drawled. His tone was getting back that sarcastic flair that Jason was now familiar with. “I’ll be sure to not be okay with dying next time I have a gun to my head.”
“Good. Good,” Jason repeated. He looked back out to the city skyline. Not too long ago, he saw this same view. It was interesting how different he was, yet how similar the city still stood. “About not being okay with dying, why the fuck were you on the edge of the roof?”
Jason nudged Tim’s shoulder in an attempt to be playful. He was trying to lighten the damp, dark mood, but he was still waiting for an answer.
“I like heights, and I have a grapple!” Tim exclaimed. Jason dodged the swipe that Tim made in response to Jason’s nudge. “Unlike you. By the way, do you want my extra one? So you can get up to buildings for deep emotional conversations much quicker.”
Tim reached down and grabbed a grapple from inside his utility belt. It definitely was an extra one; Jason could see the primary one on his belt still.
“You little shit.” Jason cautiously took the offered equipment. He turned it over, inspecting it. “If this has a tracker in it, I’m taking it out.”
“Same old Jason,” Tim parroted Dick with a giant smile on his face.
Jason shoved him again, but pocketed the grapple. It really would be useful. He had the feeling that this wasn’t going to be the last time he sat on a rooftop for a conversation with one of his brothers.
He pushed himself off of the ground, content for now at their conversation. Jason probably would pull this out again, but not tonight. It felt good enough to get Tim to admit that he was a necessary priority for both of his brothers.
Actually. Jason turned the grapple over into his hand, gripping it correctly and fingering the trigger. He cast a look to the opposite roof, then looked back to Tim. The kid was still just sitting there, which would make Jason’s dramatic exit perfect. But first…
“You’re my brother too, Tim,” Jason stated. No flair, no dramatics yet. Just a simple fact. “I don’t know when it happened so don’t ask. But, yeah.”
Before Tim could respond, Jason lifted his arm and pulled the trigger on the grapple. He felt it catch, then leapt off the roof. He could vaguely hear the sound of Tim sputtering. As Jason left, he let one final whistle split through the air. It wasn’t quite a goodbye or signing off whistle, but a ‘see you later’ and ‘watch your back’ all rolled into one.
It felt good to grapple through the sky with the sound leaving his lips.